I’ve never been one of those girly-girls who are grossed out by the sight of blood or other icky things. Some bugs do creep me out, yes, but that’s because bugs are creepy. Duh.

Since becoming a parent, my tolerance for grossness has increased quite a bit. Snot, drool, poop, pee, vomit, and blood? No problem.

But.

I have found the one thing that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and die.

It’s not a bug.

It’s not even that unidentifiable moldy thing in the back of the fridge.

It is the mushy Cheerio. There is nothing on earth fouler than the mushy Cheerio.

As a rule, I am not a big fan of the breakfast cereal unless it is in some other form (see: Chex Mix, Chex Muddy Buddies, and Rice Krispie treats). I will occasionally eat Golden Grahams, but that happens about once every five years.

Cheerios, on the other hand, are a staple of my daughter’s diet. In fact, Cheerios are the only thing she will reliably eat. Everything else runs the risk of being flung, thrown, dropped over the side, or chewed up and spit out again.

So I do run across the occasional mushy Cheerio and every time, I have to stop myself from retching. It’s really that gross.